


the way i feel when you're not holding me (come on home)

by lilaussieauthor



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, PeterMJ - Freeform, So is MJ, Spideychelle, be calm?, mj worries about her bf bc she's soft, no ma'am, peter just LEAVES her what's she supposed to do, peter's soft tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 14:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaussieauthor/pseuds/lilaussieauthor
Summary: you can't blame MJ for worrying. you would too, if your boyfriend was spiderman





	the way i feel when you're not holding me (come on home)

**Author's Note:**

> ouch that's the first fic i've written for a straight pairing. petermj (mainly just zendaya) owns my heart. leave me a comment! let me know what you think! go see spiderman: ffh and stream euphoria!

The first time, Michelle didn’t expect it. She – she’d never really had anyone to care about before, you know? So worry wasn’t exactly an emotion she was used to dealing with. Certainly not mind-numbing, all-consuming worry like the feeling she faced the first time Peter left their study session (read: date) to go ‘save the world’ – most likely just fighting a dumb racist in Queens that he felt needed to be taught a lesson.

While she’d worked herself into a state of panic, he’d returned less than an hour later, looking just the same as he did when he’d left, albeit a little sweatier. (She didn’t care. She’d held him tight and berated herself in her head for getting so worked up when obviously he was _fine_.)

She was fine. He was fine. _They_ were fine.

0o0o0

The second time it happened, he hadn’t even been with her when he’d been called out, and all she’d gotten was a text before all her breath fell out of her lungs and she sat curled in a tight ball on her bed, trying and failing to read a book on the conspiracies of 9/11 until her phone had dinged at four minutes past midnight with a quick text letting her know he was okay and a cute, tired selfie with his hair all ruffled and his eyes loving.

She fell asleep with a smile.

0o0o0

The third time it happened, they were laying together on the couch in May’s apartment, watching a documentary that Peter was weirdly invested in but MJ couldn’t really care less about. (She did care, though. For him. And because passion made him all the more attractive.)

His phone dinged and he sighed heavily, dramatically, leaning over to give her an apologetic peck before standing up and slinging his half of the blanket over her and protesting when she went to get up to help him get ready.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised, and she gave him a tight smile, her anxiety brimming already.

Almost as soon as the door slammed, she took a deep breath and pressed play on the doco, trying to get lost in baby penguins and the climate of north Amazon.

It worked. At least for a little while. But when the credits rolled and she looked up and it was dark outside and he still wasn’t back, her chest tightened in the familiar, heart-stopping way and she swore under her breath, teeth automatically gnawing on her chapped bottom lip.

She stood up shakily, the sudden silence in the room pressing down on her, and made her way over to the sink where she poured a long glass of water and drank it all in one, almost half of it spilling over her sloppy gulps and staining the daggy t-shirt of Peter’s she was currently dressed in.

She looked down with a pained groan, taking another heaving breath as she looked out and heard sirens wailing in the distance. (What if those sirens were for him?)

 _Think, MJ_.

She sank down onto the floor, her mind racing and everything going much to fast, and tried to remember whether Peter had hooked up his phone to his suit. Perhaps she could call? Make sure everything was okay?

But no. That was much too needy. She wasn’t going to be _that_ girlfriend.

 _God, he had to be okay_.

She stood up again, pacing across the kitchen as she looked around for something to distract her.

“Everything okay?” May’s kind voice. “I’m heading to work now. You guys will be okay for a bit without me?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. May grinned and Michelle waited with bated breath until she heard the door slam behind her, her loud footsteps echoing down the hallway.

 _Shit_.

 _Breathe, MJ_.

But she _couldn’t_. Breathing – breathing didn’t really seem like an option right then.

She thought of Peter, outside, alone, swinging around and possibly throwing himself into more danger than he could handle – though he probably thought he could.

_Did he even take a jumper?_

_No, dumbass, he can’t wear a jumper over his suit._

She couldn’t stop the stupid thoughts flying through her overworked head, her eyes flicking anxiously to the door every two seconds to see if he’d come through, battered and bruised and on the very brink of death as she curled up in the corner of the couch with his favourite hoodie wrapped around her shaking shoulders.

And when he stumbled in, looking only a little worse for wear later that evening, she pounced on him automatically and clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“MJ?” He asked quietly, a confused frown on his face. She looked up, her eyes meeting his and then dropping. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, because nothing _was_ wrong now, now that she knew he was safe. “Just missed you, loser.”

He snorted, pulling his mask off to press his lips quickly against hers. “You sure? You seem tense.”

She thought for a minute and then shook her head with a small smile. “I’m okay.”

He looked like he didn’t believe her. She’d never been good at lying.

But then he grinned at her and pulled away. “I’m gonna go shower. I’ll meet you in my room, if you wanna stay over?”

And she nodded, because she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to leave him right then.

0o0o0

Later, once they were snuggled up in a way MJ never thought she’d admit to doing, much less _enjoying_ , curled up under the covers, he looked down at her, his fingers playing with her hand. “I know something’s up,” he said quietly. “Sixth sense, remember?”

“I thought that was only physical,” she smirked, her eyebrow raised.

“It is,” he admitted sheepishly. “Maybe I just – maybe I just know when my girlfriend isn’t herself?”

Her smile dropped. “It’s – it’s nothing, really…”

He gave her this look, this look that said _oh really_? And she snickered softly before talking directly to his shoulder. (His perfect, broad shoulder.)

“I just – I just… I worry a lot,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “I worry – about… about you, when you – when you go out there…” she trailed off, a strong blush on her cheeks. “It’s dumb.”

But Peter – Peter Parker, victim of his own anxieties – he tilted her chin up with his thumb and pressed his lips carefully to her forehead. “It’s not dumb,” he promised. “It’s not, okay?”

“Kay,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. No matter how many times Peter kissed her, or she kissed him, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the butterflies that erupted in her stomach or the fireworks that exploded in her ears.

“We’ll – we’ll do something. To make it better,” Peter promised, because he hated seeing MJ upset.

She looked up, and there was pure adoration in his eyes, like the way a child looks at a new puppy. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly, and wrapped up in his arms, for the first time in forever, she found herself able to believe something without overthinking it. She didn’t have to double check. She didn’t have to stress about it and pick it apart until it was just letters that could have been made into words and sentences. She just knew.


End file.
